


Quarantined Holtzmann

by DELLGIRL



Series: Ghostbusters Answer the Call [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DELLGIRL/pseuds/DELLGIRL
Summary: This work in progress follows Holtzmann (in the second person, with 'you' being Holtzmann; you the reader - the same way as in my previous fanfic 'Boo Crew') as she comes to terms with the Coronavirus, isolating and being away from Erin.Trigger Warning: Terms of suicide and depression.
Relationships: Erin Gilbert & Jillian Holtzmann & Patty Tolan & Abby Yates, Erin Gilbert/Jillian Holtzmann, Erin Gilbert/Jillian Holtzmann/Original Character(s), Erin Gilbert/Original Female Character(s), Jillian Holtzmann/Original Female Character(s), Rebecca Gorin/Jillian Holtzmann
Series: Ghostbusters Answer the Call [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716391
Kudos: 5





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally uploaded to Wattpad. 
> 
> I'm new to AO3 but this seems to be where the Holtzbert fandom is thriving.
> 
> Notes to the reader:
> 
> This version of Holtzmann is based on myself (the same as Holtzmann in my fanfiction is 90% similar to me) as I find it easier to project my feelings onto a fictional character... That isn't to say that the reader cannot become Holtzmann, but as I find it difficult to write diaries, it's better for me to fictionalise myself into a character that I share similar traits with. (My version of Holtzmann/Holtzbert, has Asperger's, ADHD and Depression like myself.) I hope this makes sense, and doesn't deter you, or differ too much from the original Ghostbusters Answer the Call characterisation.
> 
> Any italicised speech is because the recipient is on the phone and the story is not 'with' that person. Titles are also italicised to differentiate between the rest of the text. It is also used for emphasis.
> 
> The relationship categories, are not only romantic (between Erin and Jillian) but also family (Erin/Jillian/OC - Jane; Jillian/Rebecca) and friendships - Erin/Jillian/Abby/Patty. I want to clarify that here so that it isn't assumed that this is all a romantic piece of fiction. Whilst that is true, between Erin and Jillian, the relationships are a mixture of friends, family and partners.
> 
> Please enjoy and I would appreciate any and all feedback. :)

You sit in a high-backed oak chair aimlessly thumbing an ancient copy of _The Principles of Quantum Mechanics._ You have all four editions of the monograph, by Paul Dirac and oftentimes like to refer to them for a bit of ‘light reading’. Three of Dirac’s editions and both editions of Ramamurti Shankar’s work are shelved on your teak bookshelf in the basement. Quantum Physics, whilst not a major, or a joint study with Experimental Particle Physics, became your obsession and you devoured every piece of information you could. As such, you have unprecedented knowledge of Quantum Physics, as well as Experimental Particle Physics, and the more dangerous study of Nuclear Engineering. Combined, your scientific knowledge gave you the exposure to be an associate professor at Kenneth P. Higgins Institute and it was there that you spent six glorious years.

As you flick through the mould-ridden pages of the first edition from 1930, you can’t help but to reminisce on the time you studied the subject, before going on to enhancing the skills of young minds. You sigh wistfully and spin, like a Bond villain, in your chair. Of course, there is no one there, but you still speak aloud. “I have been expecting you, Mr Bond.” You give a half chuckle, and carefully drop the book on the table top.

You get up from your desk, for about the sixth time in the space of two hours, and stare out the windows of your house. It’s sunny at 8 in the morning, but you wonder how long that will last. You sniff, and crack your neck, before cracking a couple of knuckles. You inhale quietly and exhale loudly, turning the exhale into a sigh and then a groan. Another day stuck indoors. Three weeks you’ve been in lockdown, and thus far, you’ve not driven yourself stir crazy, but it’s only a matter of time before you start talking to yourself; and not just movie quotes, or songs from musicals, but full on conversations and debates.

Folding your arms, you stare out at the tree in front of the window, your eyes widen and you unblinkingly take it the branches lightly swaying in the breeze. You begin to imagine yourself as a tree, being outside, being free, but also being trapped and unable to move. You furrow your brow and dismiss the thought. You contemplate going back to your book and realise that in the past two hours, you’ve read and re-read the same two pages, without taking anything in and decide to give it a break. After all, you have at least another three weeks to get through all 6 Quantum books; or, at the very least, through most of the first.

Strolling towards the desk, you open the top drawer and fish out a blue leather-bound diary. You grab a ballpoint from the pen pot and scribble ‘Day #25 Covid-19 Quarantine’. You tap the end of the pen against your front teeth and proceed to write ‘Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!’. You look at it, smile and close the book. You may continue to write it later, but right now, you got how you’re feeling off your chest, and that’s all that matters. Dumping it back in the drawer, you shove it closed with your thigh and sigh again.

Your stomach growls and you try to surmise the last time you ate. You figure it was at least four hours ago, but you really can’t remember, as you didn’t look at your watch. You slink off into the kitchen for some tea and toast, and stare at the wall. Too often you’ve zoned out and stared at something; mostly inanimate objects. You figure that it’s the boredom and are thankful you don’t have cats, who will probably try to eat you if you died of boredom. You chuckle slightly and wait for the toast to pop. It does so, within about three minutes, and it makes you jump. The kettle is yet to finish boiling, so you begin to put chocolate spread on the toast, before licking the knife clean. You make a happy little moan, and set about making your sugary brew.

Tea in one hand, with your toast plat balanced atop, you wander into the lounge, set the mug and plate on the coffee table and flick on Fox News. Scenes of despair splash across the screen and increasing statistics take front-and-centre. Your heart wrenches as you read it: 134,436 confirmed cases in New York alone, with a horrendous figure of 770,564 in the rest of the United States. Your head reels and you begin to panic. You eat your toast in silence, not really tasting the chocolate spread, and jump as your cell phone rings from inside your leather jacket. You get up, knocking the table with your knee. You clutch it and fall onto the sofa. Cursing your Dyspraxia, you hobble over and fish out your phone.

“Hello?” You ask, pain lacing your voice.

_“Hey superstar.”_ A female voice emanates through the tiny speaker. Oddly, you don’t recognise it. You check the caller I.D. and realise the number is withheld.

“Uhm, who is this?” you ask, confusing and annoyance now invading your tone.

_“Is that a way to speak to your Mother?”_

“Gorin?” You ask, trying to work out which ‘mother’ is ringing you?

_“No, Karen.”_

“You’re not my Mother. We already established that, when you decided that once Dr Gorin came back into my life, you were done with me, Erin and Jane. What do you want?”

You hear a pissed off sigh from the other end. “ _I was ringing to see how you were.”_

“Fine, I’m fine.” You lie. You don’t feel fine; you’re worried about Coronavirus and why your ‘mother’ who never really was your mother is ringing you in the first place.

“ _Jillian, I know you too well and I know that tone. How are you really doing? And how’s Erin and the baby?”_

“I haven’t seen Erin for a while. She went to visit her mom a few weeks ago, think she’s in isolation, I don’t know. We actually haven’t spoken for a few days, and I don’t know what I’ve done. Jane isn’t a baby any more. She’s six, _Karen_. She’s with Erin. It’s, it’s… complicated. My head got the best of me, and she kinda left to go visit her mom and I didn’t wanna go.”

Another sigh. “ _Jillian, you need to ring Erin, and fix whatever it is you’ve messed up. I don’t know what’s been said, but I know you. I know you’d do anything for that girl…”_

“My _wife_.” You interject.

“ _Yes, you would do anything for your wife, and it surprises me that you two are not together. Give her a ring as soon as we’re done on the phone.”_

“Uhm, Karen… _Mom_ … uh, why did you call?”

There is a deafening silence as Karen thinks of how to tell you. “ _I, you need to sit down, Jill-Bug_.”

You pull out the dining chair tucked under your white-marble dining table, under halogen lamps. Clambering up on it, you hook your foot under the rest to tuck it under, before realising your cuppa is on the coffee table. You grab it and sit on the sofa instead. “Yeah, I’m sitting.”

“ _I have to tell you something and I know this won’t be easy for you to deal with, so if you need to take your time, then do, but please don’t hang up_.” Your stomach twists itself into knots and you put your mug down, before pursing your lips, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable. _“You still there?”_

“Uh-huh.” You mumble.

“ _Jillian, don’t mumble. Your Dad, he, uhm, he’s been diagnosed as positive with Coronavirus, and there’s a high chance that—”_

“No, don’t tell me anymore. I don’t want to hear it. Despite everything, you’re still family and I, I don’t… I need…” You trail off head spinning, thoughts racing. Your phone beeps, and lo and behold, it’s Erin trying to connect with you. “I, er, Erin… I have…” You don’t finish your sentence. Karen knows what’s up and she lets you switch calls.

“ _Hey Mama_!” Jane’s bright voice fills your ear, but you don’t hear it. There’s a small commotion and Erin’s voice penetrates your ear canal. “Honey, what’s up?”

“Mom… Dad… Cov… Pos…” You can’t get the words out.

“ _Oh my God, are you okay, babe_?”

The silence drags out as you try to process the information. You understand, you _know_ , because you’re not stupid, but at the same time, you _don’t_ understand as your Mom was always particular about cleaning everything. And your Dad never left the house, so _how_ did they get it?

“ _Mommy, why is Mama sad?”_ Jane’s small voice interrupts your thoughts. You hear Erin slide down the wall and Jane clamber into her lap and this sets you off crying.

“Janey?” You ask, through tears.

“ _Yes, Mama?_ ” Jane asks after Erin puts you on loudspeaker.

“You know how Nanny and Bampy are old and the world is poorly right now?”

“ _Uh-huh.”_ Replies the small voice.

“Well, Bampy is a bit poorly. And it’s worrying, because Bampy might be very sick and Mama doesn’t know how sick he is.”

“ _Is he where sick people are? The place where I had my arm fixed.”_

“The hospital? I, I don’t know sweetie. Mama couldn’t hear what Nanny was saying, because Mama got upset.”

_“Mama?”_

“Yes Jane?”

“ _Are you coming back soon_?” Jane asks, completely changing the subject, in her cute and innocent way.

You close your eyes, purse your lips and begin to cry harder. You haven’t seen her for three weeks and you don’t know how to explain to a six year old that you need to be socially distancing from family. It isn’t fair. You should be in the same house as your wife and daughter, but your depression pushed Erin away and then she decided to go visit her Mom as Jane hadn’t seen her in two months. You were too busy being in a funk that you decided to reject the idea of being surrounded by others who were far too happy for your liking, and now, you’re having to make peace with your actions and you just wish that you and Erin were in the same house. Being apart from her is tearing you apart and there are some days, where you just think that you’re not worthy of her love and just wish that you could learn to let go of this burden; this person you have become, to be happy and to be a responsible adult and partner.

You hear Erin explain to Jane that you and her have to be apart for a little why and you hear the hurt and upset in Jane’s voice as she questions why.

“Because Mama is poorly in the head, Jane. And because of this virus, we need to be away from each other. I know it’s very difficult, but you’ve got Mommy, and Gran and Granddad to play with you.”

“ _Will you get better so I can come home and play with you, Mama_?” She asks.

“Mama is trying, but it’s not an easy task. You have to be away from me for a while, so that no one catches this virus. You are not likely to get it Jane, but Gran and Granddad might do and we have to keep them safe. It’s killing me to be away from you both, but we have to observe the rules and stay indoors. That’s why you probably haven’t been outside for a while.”

“ _So when the world is better, we can come home, but it might take months before the world is healed?_ ” She asks, before wriggling off Erin’s lap and disappearing off to play.

“Yes.” You say quietly. “Erin?” You ask, in a small voice.

_“Yes, Holtzy?”_

“I know I said some hurtful things, and I pushed you away. I just want things to be normal. I’m struggling and I’m fed up of pushing you away, but I am pushing you away because I don’t want to burden you, because I’m mentally ill, which means I don’t feel worthy of your love and I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you, and like I’m a shit Mama and a shit partner. I do want to be with you, being with you is the best feeling in the world, but I hate myself for dragging you through my drama, so I’m pushing you away, so that I can attempt this on my own. I know I’ve spoken about disappearing, but I don’t feel like I deserve you or your kindness because I am getting in the way and I’d rather, yano, not be here, instead of constantly being depressed, making you depressed and being away from you. I hate feeling this way. I’m sorry I say hurtful things and threaten things, like hurting myself, but I’m not in my right mind. It’s just words, but sometimes those words, become thoughts and I am trying so, so hard to not let those thoughts manifest into actions, because I don’t actually want to die, but I don’t know how to deal with my emotions. I can try and think good thoughts, for every bad thought I have, but it doesn’t conquer this loneliness; it won’t go away. I feel like I don’t deserve to be with you, because, because I’m awful and so…” you momentarily break to sniffle “…so damaged and I’m a black cloud over your life. And, and I… I… I love you and I’m sorry.”

“ _Jillian Holtzbert. I love you, with all my heart. I know you’re upset and feeling lost, but we’re in this together. Just know that you never annoy me, and that you’re not a burden, but when you talk about ending it all, it really upsets me, and I want you to know that. Your feelings are valid, but I need you to know that you scare me when you talk about things like that. I can’t lose you; I refuse to do so, but please try not to talk like that, okay? I understand that it’s difficult, but I need you, my love. I know the Mirtazapine kinda made you a zombie, but is it worth going back on antidepressants? I don’t want you to get worse and do something drastic.”_

“I know this is selfish, but I don’t want to be on medication, I don’t like taking them, baby. I want to try and fix myself, by myself. I need you to help me, but at the same time I don’t. I know, that makes no sense; like I’m frustrated about being on my own, but I’m pushing people away. Please, just love me; love my broken pieces. Just don’t judge me, and remember that this isn’t me. I will get there; just this isolation, social distancing and lockdown is driving me nuts. The Autism is cool with it, the ADHD is bored, and the boredom leads to my Depression and that’s what is the diseased part of my brain. I hate being away from you. I know it’s been a few weeks, but it feels like _months_ and I know I’m going to be in lockdown until _at least_ September. Did you know I’m reading Quantum Mechanics; for literally the umpteenth time?”

_“Well, it’s good that you’re reading.”_

“Well, staring at the words, but not really seeing them.”

“ _How about we FaceTime…Messenger video chat… later_?” Erin asks, trying to brighten up the conversation.

“Yes, baby, I need that. Just, know that I am sorry. And I will get better and I won’t hurt myself. I pinky promise.”

“ _Good, because Holtz_?”

“Yah?”

There is a bit of silence before Erin speaks again. “ _My life won’t be the same without you in it. You’ve added a rainbow of colour, and I am so privileged to be a part of it. Everything about you is perfect to me and I need you, okay? I love everything about you, and you are so worthy, so valued and so needed. Not just by me, but by Jane. Please believe me when I tell you that you are the.most.important.person in my life. Holtz, I love you, I’m in love with you and you need to stay strong for us, okay?”_

You sniffle and sigh. “Yeah, okay, I’ll try.”

Erin makes kissing noises and you grin. You do them back, sigh and hang up the phone.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ongoing; but here's what I've written so far, to keep you entertained, as I ascertain which direction I want this to travel in. 
> 
> Author's Notes: * * * denotes time passing that is undefined (i.e. not 'five minutes later')
> 
> Author's Notes 2 (28/07/2020): Hi all. I'm extremely sorry that I've not updated either of my stories, mental health is a real issue for me, and I've really struggled to find the inspiration to write; I finally managed to get a little bit done today. It isn't much, but it's something. Please bear with me. And please forgive my lack of writing.

You get up from the floor, having not realised that you had even got down there, and miserably drag yourself off to make a second cup of tea. You hold the teaspoon aloft and brandish it around flicking tea everywhere. You don’t notice, until a droplet lands on your cheekbone. You wipe it away and wait for the kettle to boil a second time. You make a tea, without sugar this time, and drop the teaspoon into the metal sink, where it clatters. You screw up your face with the sheer noise of it and leave the kitchen. No sooner had you crossed the threshold of the kitchen door, you remember your brew on the side and slide across the wooden floor to collect it; thumb on one side of the rim, four fingers the other side. You blow a raspberry with your lips and make your way back into the lounge. Setting the mug down on the coaster, you surf the channels, trying to avoid the news. You leave it on a static channel to listen to the white noise; forgetting that it gives you a headache.

“Okay, Google.” You say to your Huawei. The phone makes a bong noise. “Sing me a happy song.”

_“Playing ‘Happy Song’ on Spotify.”_

“Nooo, I don’t want a kids’ song…” You tell it as the Spotify app loads. “Ooh, yeeesss! _Happy Song_ by Bring Me The Horizon. Oh, Google, you gem!” You locate your JVC Xtreme Xplosives noise cancelling headphones, plug the jack into the headphone socket atop the phone and turn it up to a loud, but comfortable, volume and bob your head along. The song ends, and you restart it, this time turning your headphones up full whack so that you can properly hear the lyrics. You decide to Google search them to read and sing along. “We are possessed; we’re all fucked in the head, alone and depressed. But if we sing along, a little fucking louder, to a happy song, maybe we’ll forget…” you sing (well, presumably shouting as you’re wearing your headphones, but you actually don’t care.) You play the song another three times, before allowing the app to make a ‘playlist radio’ and play a similar song. The next song is _We Don’t Have to Dance_ by Andy Black. Not a song you’ve heard before, but you’ve jiving to the beat in your seat and you feel good. It’s true what they say that music is good for the soul.

You keep the ‘playlist’ going and just listen to whatever comes up; whether you’re paying attention to the lyrics or not. You listen to a song in silence, and then another BMTH song comes on: _Drown_. You play it through once, and then go back to listen to it a second time and to sing along. “What doesn’t kill you makes you wish you were dead. Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper, and I can’t take one more moment of this silence. The loneliness is haunting me and the weight of the world’s getting harder to hold up. It comes in waves; I close my eyes, hold my breath and let it bury me. I’m not OK and it’s not all right. Won’t you drag the lake and bring me home again.” You stop to listen to the chorus and the second verse, before uttering one word: “Mood.” You bob your head, before striking up the chorus. “Who will fix me now? Dive in when I’m down? Save me from myself; don’t let me drown. Who will make me fight? Drag me out alive? Save me from myself; don’t let me drown. Cause you know that I can’t do this on my own.”

You listen to another song, before a really strong ‘screamo’ song comes on; not your cup of tea, despite you listening to all genres, so you skip it. You notice that all the songs in this playlist have a similar theme – loneliness, depression, aloneness and today, the songs are speaking to you, but making you happy, because the beats are in a major key and as such, they’re helping your mental state. Finishing your tea, you switch off the TV and contemplate what your plans are to be, and what food you should eat. You hum to yourself and opt to have a jacket potato with tuna.

* * *

Elsewhere in the city, Abby flicks through a _New Scientist_ magazine. The yellow front cover is adorned with an explosion of ever-growing viruses and the title reads: Inside the Race for a Vaccine. She studies the main article with reverence and begins to formulate plans, and ideas. Perhaps she can create a vaccine herself? Of course, she isn’t a vaccinologist and as such, decides against the idea… although…? No, best not.

Her phone rings, and she sees the silly photo of her and Patty taken months ago on her birthday. “Yeah-lo?”

“ _Sup, girly? How you holdin’ up?”_

“Eh, I’m not doing too badly. I’ve got lots of study material and I’ve updated the website.”

“ _Uh-oh. Have you consulted the Web Master_?” Patty queries.

“Uh, nope…” Abby replies, toying with the idea. “Hey, have you heard from the Holtzberts?”

“ _Actually, no, I haven’t spoken to Erin in about three days, and Holtzy… well, she’s gone AWOL. Even Erin hasn’t spoken to her in weeks_.”

Abby mumbles to herself and begins thinking out loud as to your whereabouts. She reels off a list of places, and Patty murmurs in agreement, or disagreement. A request for a video chat from Erin stops her in her tracks. She lets Patty know, hangs up on her, answers Erin’s request and then adds Patty to the conversation.

“Hey, Erin! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Abby announces.

“ _Ditto_.” adds Patty.

“ _Likewise_.” Erin concludes. “ _So, hey, I’ve been thinking…_ ”

“Oh dear, that’s not good.” Abby jokes.

“ _Oh, hardee-har_.” Erin replies, sarcastically. “ _We’re in lockdown, right, but essential works are still allowed to be carried out, so, uhm, isn’t busting ghosts classed as essential work, or is it non-essential because it’s the deceased?_ ”

“ _That is an exceptionally good question, dude_.” Patty responds. “ _Yo, we need to speak to the Mayor. Anyone got Jen’s number_?”

“Who?” Abby and Erin ask in unison.

“ _Yano, Jennifer Lynd_?” Patty replies, slightly louder than she intended. The other two frown, and pull faces of mild confusion.

“ _Well, not at the moment_ …” begins Erin.

“Got it!” interjects Abby. “Listed on the Mayor’s LinkedIn.”

“ _Of course he has a LinkedIn_.” Erin concludes, rolling her eyes with disdain.

“What do you have against, LinkedIn?” Abby questions, furrowing her brow.

“ _It’s not the easiest web application to use, to be honest, and the simplicity of its formatting and style makes for a pretty boring website.”_

“ _Erin, you and your skirt-suits are the epitome of boring, honey, I woulda thought that that was more your style._ ” Patty offers, before starting a rambunctious laugh.

Erin bristles, but joins in with a half-hearted laugh. They continue to exchange pleasantries, before deciding to end the call. Just before they do so, Erin, remembering she had spoken to you earlier, cuts in.

“Ooh! Oh, oh! I spoke to Holtzmann!” She says, a tad more energetically than she was anticipating. 

“How is she?” Abby asks, worriment laced in her voice.

“Not good. She’s struggling, guys, and I don’t know what to do. She is in and out of mood swings, and they’re just so bad. Like one minute she’s elated that we’re together, and the next, she’s all…yano…”

“Wanting to disappear?”

“Yeah, and I hate that I’m not there. This lockdown is a fucking disaster…” Erin says, sighing

 _“Mommy, you gotta put a quarter in the Swear Jar.”_ Jane says, somewhere in the background.

“ _Okay, you do that for me, honey.”_ She replies, turning her face away from the camera. Jane giggles and dashes off to go find the coin. “It’s driving me insane that Jillian has decided to take a timeout. I know there’s been…” she lowers her voice to little more than a whisper “… _issues_ since her mom wanted to be more involve—”

“Gorin, or Karen?” Patty interjects.

“Karen.” Erin replies, flatly. “But there’s more problems with us now. Oh, and her dad tested positive for Coronavirus, so we got that to deal with too.”

“Oh, fucking hell.” Abby announces; the other two stares at her. “What?”

“You never cuss… Okay, moving on.” Patty says, as Abby shrugs.

Erin sighs, before continuing. “Yeah, so on top of Depression, the lockdown, arguments between us, she’s got that to deal with, and I honestly just wanna cuddle her so badly.”

“It’s not easy. When do you suppose we can go ‘round people’s houses?” Patty asks.

“Hard to tell, Pat.” Abby replies.

“Uh, guys, Holtz is calling.” She ends the call.

“Hey, honey, you ok?”

 _“Not really.”_ You mumble from the other end.

* * *

You pace up and down your apartment, looking out of the window across New York City, where you take in Central Park, and the vast emptiness of it, and you notice that without the people, it’s looking more luscious and much greener. “I’m driving myself insane here, Erin. I literally don’t know what to do.”


End file.
